


Pharmakós

by dead_lilli



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Azkaban, Betrayal, Character Bashing, Dark Harry, Harry Potter in Azkaban, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Sane Tom Riddle, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_lilli/pseuds/dead_lilli
Summary: After being found in the Chamber of Secrets clinging to the lifeless body of Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter is sent to Azkaban, having been accused of murder. Harry finds himself questioning if he was ever on the right side, or does a right side even exist.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 38
Kudos: 451





	1. Chapter 1

The clicking sound of boots on concrete floors echoed throughout the hallways of Azkaban. One of the few human guards stationed at the prison was making his weekly rounds to ensure none of the prisoners were dead. The newer inmates leered at him, reaching out from their cells, screaming about what they would do if they got out. The ones who had been there for more than a year, they learnt it was necessary to conserve your energy in Azkaban. 

The guard shook his head as he made his way upstairs to the maximum-security cells. The cells were reserved for You-Know-Who’s most faithful. Along with one Harry Potter, the-boy-who-betrayed. Most of the prisoners in maximum-security stopped causing trouble for the guards years ago, too malnourished to have extra energy. Just to make sure they were still alive, the guard sprayed them with water as he walked by, making sure they twitched and shivered as he passed by their cells. The guard vindictively smirked whenever one of the prisoners started screaming curses at him. He revelled in their pain.

Soon enough the guard came across the newest member to the maximum-security cells. Harry Potter sat in the back corner of the dark cell, huddled up into a ball. It had been three years since they tossed him in Azkaban for the murder of that little Weasley girl. The poor kid was only 12 at the time, but what else could they do. They couldn’t have him growing up to become the next Dark Lord. Better get him locked away before any of that nasty business happened. There was no other explanation for why he survived You-Know-Who’s killing curse that night. Yes. He had to be contained before becoming the next Dark Lord.

The guard cast an augamenti charm at the lump huddled in the corner of Potter’s cell. Small whimpers came from the dark figure as it visibly shivered.

“Got hypothermia yet, betrayer?” the guard sneered sarcastically, making sure to hit the boy with a couple of strong stinging hexes.

The lump just continued to shiver as the guard continued to throw hexes. “You better not die yet, freak. You still have years until you’re done paying for that little girl’s death.” The guard growled out as he walked away from the cell continuing to throw hexes and water at the other prisoners as he passed.

The boy’s green eyes shone in the darkness, following the retreating figure as it moved down the hall. No one would notice that the shivering immediately stopped as soon as the guard turned away. A calculating smirk graced the face of the sickly thin figure that had once been the boy who lived. The next time a guard would come by to check on the prisoners in the maximum-security cells, they would find them empty with no evidence of anyone ever being there.

\------

Throughout his first year in Azkaban, Harry held on to the hope that someone would save him. He knew that Dumbledore would believe he didn’t kill Ginny. Ginny was his best mate’s sister. She was from the family who took him in and treated him as one of their own. Surely Dumbledore would find out the truth and get him out of here.

Oh, how wrong he was. He had no saviour.

Harry Potter was charged with the murder of Ginevra Weasley at the end of his second year. After the Chamber of Secrets predicament, Harry was found alone in the Chamber of Secrets with Ginny’s body, staring blankly in the distance at the space where the young Voldemort had been. No witnesses. No Tom Riddle to be found. Just Harry and the body of a dead girl. As a known parselmouth, Harry was screwed.

The Aurors showed up, immediately stunning him when he tried to explain the situation. The last thing he saw was Dumbledore shaking his head in disappointment at Harry.

When he woke, he was in a cell in Azkaban. It took him a while to process what had happened and all-in-all, Harry was left very confused. He received no contact from his friends, no visits. Just the taunts from the other inmates questioning why ickle-baby-Potter was locked up with them. Had the wizarding world abandoned their saviour? The taunts that left him to question all of Dumbledore’s motives. Question why the old man didn’t stick up for him. Why there was no trial. Why no one had come. Why he was left in Azkaban to rot. Dumbledore was meant to come to save him. Where was he?

Harry spent his days Azkaban, tucked in the corner of his cell, trying to forget that the whole world seemed to have abandoned him and left him to rot away in prison. He learnt that he could retreat to his mind and organize his thoughts like a library. It was fascinating for the first few months, but eventually that lost its interest. He had extracted all the information he could from his time at Hogwarts and the taunts the prisoners shouted at him. It had given him a lot to think about, but he had no new information to sort through after a while making it impossible to continue. Having given up protesting the taunts from the other inmates and having no more information to sort through, Harry just stared at the colours surrounding the prison bars, dreaming of ways he could make them pay.

That was another thing. The colours. He started to see them as soon as he woke up in Azkaban. At first, he thought that it was extra security for the prison. He honestly didn’t know much about Azkaban. The few things that he had heard about the prison during his time at Hogwarts were mainly to do with the Death Eaters being kept there. So, maybe the colours were seen by everyone. No one seemed to look at them, but likely they had gotten bored of the pretty lights that danced along the walls. There was only so much to do and if the prisoners had been stuck in there for around 10 years, there was no doubt that the colours would eventually get boring.

Eventually, Harry decided to ask the other prisoners. No one even seemed to glance at the walls other than to blankly stare. Maybe it was something only he could do. Or maybe he was going crazy. It had been too long since he had been thrown in prison. His mind wasn’t what it used to be. He doubted anyone was going to save him either. So why not ask questions. If the other prisoners were even half as sane as he currently felt, they might be able to provide him with a sliver on entertainment.

“Why can I see colours on the walls?” Harry asked to the dark corners of the prison. They had given up trying to get a rise out of him months ago, or so he assumed. Time passed in strange ways when you were stuck in a small cell.

A voice spoke up from the cell to the right of his, “So itty-bitty Potty has mage sight. A son of a mudblood shouldn’t have the rare sight only my Lord is graced with.”

Harry shifted closer to the bars lining the front of his cell, hoping to catch a glance of the person speaking.

“Stop antagonizing him Bella,” another voice sighed, coming from one of the cells across from his. “They’ve obviously discarded their saviour for good. It’s not like there’s anything he can use it for in here. Leave the kid alone.”

The female voice who first responded to Harry, now known as Bella, scoffed obviously annoyed with the other voice, but still listened and went quiet again.

The silence lingered for a few moments before Harry spoke up again, this time a bit quieter. “What’s mage sight?”

A new voiced sighed somewhere to his left, possibly across the hall as well. It was hard to tell. The prison was kept dark with only the light of day, if you could call it that since Azkaban seemed to be surrounded by a never-ending storm, to light the halls. “What do they teach you children nowadays.” The voice asked rhetorically. Seemingly annoyed by the ignorant nature of the question.

“You should know better than to expect them to teach him anything. No doubt the old goat is still in charge of the school, continuously removing subjects from the charter. What do you think is happening out there after seeing him thrown in here, Rab.” The same voice that berated Bella said. “They obviously were planning to frame him as the next dark lord once ensuring our Lord was gone.”

“He will come for us Rodo.” The voice which Harry now knew to be Rab said.

The other male, Rodo, snapped back with a growled response, “That wasn’t what I was implying.” Rodo sighed, almost sounding exasperated. “We all know he’s just biding his time until his full power is returned and he has a use for us. The point is Dumbledore and his Order are continuing to fail at educating young witches and wizards about anything important.”

Rab decided to ignore Rodo’s response in favour of looking towards Harry’s cell. Harry could now see the outline of the man’s colour, like the other two prisoners who spoke, it was brighter than he had ever seen them before. “Kid, you said you saw colours, right?”

Harry hummed in confirmation. Making sure to file any information that had been said in his mind so he could analyse it later. People always say more than they really mean to.

“When do you see these colours?” Rab continued his interrogation. “Does it only happen when you see magic being performed or is it constant?”

“I can see all your colours,” Harry said after a while, trying not to give too much away. “I can also see the layers of colours woven throughout the prison’s walls. They tend to shift shades slightly, but they’re always there.”

Rab scoffed, undecided whether to be impressed or peeved that the child who killed his Lord was given such an incredible gift. “That’s mage sight all right. When did you start seeing like that kid?”

“Not until I got here.” Muttered Harry, upset that he hadn’t been able to see it during his time before being stuck in here. By the sounds of it, he would have been able to see the colours of everyone’s magic. He wondered what Hogwarts looked like.

A couple of murmurs came from the cells nearby as Rab growled, his instincts to protect the gift of magic kicking in. “They must have really had it out for you kid to put blocks like that on your magic.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, immediately on edge. It was possible to block someone’s magic, and even worse, someone did that to him.

Rab scoffed at Harry’s accusing tone and though Harry couldn’t see it, he held no doubts that the man was rolling his eyes. “What I mean is that you must have had some blocks on your magic before you came here.” He paused as if waiting for Harry to take it in before continuing. “Azkaban has a dispelling ward on it to remove any blocks, enchantments, or enhancements a witch or wizard has on their person. It allows the prison to make sure it knows what it's blocking against and what magic it should be looking for. No one’s been able to recreate anything like it and it’s a brilliant piece of magic, but it makes it almost impossible to escape without help.”

Harry nodded to himself, letting the man’s words seep in before settling on his next line of questioning. “How do you know so much?”

“I was an Unspeakable, kid,” Rab replied with a hint of pride in his voice. “My focus at work was this prison. I know it like the back of my hand.” Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.

Harry decided that it was the only answer he would get out of the man before continuing to circle back on his original question. “You still haven’t given a proper explanation about what mage sight is.”

Rodo spoke up this time, deciding he had enough of his brother’s half-correct, off-topic answers to the kid’s questions. “Mage sight is an exceptionally rare magical talent, young Potter.”

“Like parseltongue?” Harry interrupted, mentally kicking himself for his inability to bite his tongue. He was trying to act like a Slytherin, not some impulsive Gryffindor.

Harry could feel the eye-roll come from Rodo as he continued. “Yes, parseltongue is also considered a rare magical talent. Mage sight, however, allows the talent holder to view the essence of magic. Many mage sight talent holders go on to be exceptional cursebreakers and spellcrafters as they can see the threads of magic and, in certain situations, are able to grasp those very threads to edit the magic at work. Given enough time, you should be able to tell what magical effect is happening based on the colours and threads of colours you see. Each spell and ward is said to have its own unique composition, and should you be able to remember the compositions of all of them, it is said you will have unlimited power.” Then Rodo added with reverence. “Our Lord mastered his gift and is able to unravel any ward in seconds based on the threads of colours he sees.”

Silence filled the halls as Harry thought on what was said. After a moment, he sighed and mumbled under his breath, “Yet another thing I share with him. No wonder they think I’m the next dark lord.”

“You share another talent with my Lord, Potty?” Bella questioned from the darkness.

Harry sighed. “There’s no point in hiding it. The world found out before I got thrown in here. No doubt it’s why they were so quick to toss me away.” Harry said bitterly, trying to push back the feelings of betrayal that were still present in the forefront of his mind. “Like ‘your Lord,’ I’m also a parselmouth.”

“Parselmouth and mage seer,” Rodo said with a hint of awe. “No doubt had you not been his prophesied demise, our Lord would have taken you on as an apprentice.” Rodo mused to himself.

Harry growled. “Prophesised demise?”

Rodo sighed. “Yes, he was rather obsessed with killing you to make sure you wouldn’t call his downfall.

Harry scoffed. “Too late for that.”

A comical smiled graced Rodo’s face as he stared in the direction of the ‘boy wonder.’

“Do you know what the prophecy entailed?” Harry asked, curious about the actual reason he was hunted down as a child.

Rodo hummed. “I don’t remember the full prophecy. Actually, I’m almost certain even our lord is unaware of the full prophecy, but I do believe that somewhere it mentioned, _born as the seventh month dies,_ which led our hunt to either you or Neville Longbottom. And the last words were, _neither can live while the other survives_.”

Harry closed his eyes bringing his hand up to rub his forehead, attempting to relieve himself of his budding headache. “Not to say that the dark lord was wrong in his interpretation… but couldn’t that also mean that if we were to both live life to our fullest, there would be no reason to kill each other. Then again, it is said that most prophecies are self-fulfilling. He should have just ignored it.” Harry scoffed.

The hall was silent as the prisoners mulled over Harry’s words, the only sound being from the never-ending crash of waves on the rocky shores of the prison. The silence lasted almost an hour before small sobs started filling the halls. It was a fairly regular occurrence and Harry never bothered with listening after the first few nights of wails from the man. But this time, he knew the voice that spoke up about the sobs, so curiously he listened in.

“Shut up mutt,” Rodo grunted at the man from the darkness of his cell.

The sobbing man growled at Rodo who obviously held no lost love for the man. “You don’t understand Lestrange.”

“What don’t I understand mutt?” Rodo sneered. “You crying cause your leader of the light left you here for dead too? We all know you never had the balls to be one of us.”

The man continued moaning and wailing before finally settling down enough to huff out, “It’s my fault my godson is in here. I don’t care about myself anymore. I just regret I never was able to kill that bastard.” The man continued sniffling for a few moments then spoke up again in a dark voice. “I shouldn’t have left Hagrid take my godson though. I shouldn’t have trusted Dumbles. Who knows what else has happened while I’ve been stuck here.” He paused for a moment before exclaiming, “Fuck! Were we on the wrong side of the war after all?”

Harry let the silence linger for a moment. Waiting for the man to explain himself a bit more but it seemed everyone else already knew what he was talking about. When it was obvious the man had no plans on continuing, he spoke up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s your godson?” Harry asked the dark halls ominously, a bad feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

A sharp intake of breath, then a choked laugh can from the man. “They didn’t tell you about me, huh?”

Harry made a noise of dissent.

“Huh. I thought you were just ignoring me because you thought I betrayed your parents like the rest of the world seems to. No wonder. Well. It really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, I guess. I’m just a no-good piece of shit anyways.” He paused as if unsure what to say next, but then continued. “Harry. I’m your godfather, Sirius Black. Your father was my best friend. I- I was too stupid to realise what you needed was someone to take care of you and not someone to avenge your parents’ betrayer. So, I gave you to Hagrid. I was gonna be right back. I just- I thought- If I caught the rat. Maybe. I- I- I don’t know. I was just so mad. He killed my best friend. He killed your parents. Just. Please forgive me.”

Harry’s mind was running a million miles a minute as the information seeped in. The man wasn’t to most coherent of prisoners, but Harry was sure he understood just fine. That is to say, if this idiot hadn’t gone after his so-called rat, then he wouldn’t have had to live with the Dursleys, and he would have grown up with magic. Dark thoughts started racing through his mind.

“Sirius, was it?” Harry said in a deceivingly soft voice.

The man who identified himself as Sirius Black whimpered out an agreement.

“So, you decided it was okay to leave a small child with Hagrid, a groundskeeper from Hogwarts, right after his family had been murdered, and the proceeded to go capture some criminal, and in the process got yourself locked up and thrown in Azkaban, leaving me with my mother’s awful relatives and you’d like me to forgive you,” Harry stated in a deceivingly calm voice.

Sirius whimpered again. Harry could see his magic curling in on itself as Harry’s own lashed out against the walls of the prison. Harry was beyond pissed. Not that any of this actually mattered anymore. But maybe, just maybe, if this idiot hadn’t gotten himself locked away and left his godson to fend for himself then Harry wouldn’t be in this position.

One of the prisoners from earlier, Rab if Harry remembered correctly, let out a low whistle. “You really fucked up this time, didn’t you mutt?”

Harry glared in Rab’s direction, green eyes eerily lighting up the darkness annoyed at the man’s interjection into their personal conversation.

“I just- I don’t know.” Sirius whimpered out, continuing to mutter excuses to himself.

Harry was silent as he mulled over the information he just learnt. So many things that had happened in his life seemed to be predetermined by some outside force. Some ‘unknown’ force that seemed to like lemon candy a bit too much. Someone who had their fingers in too many pies. Harry’s eyes shone brighter in the darkness as his mood worsened. Almost as if they were glowing with power.

“How do you know this ‘rat’ is guilty, Black? What is he even guilty of?” Harry asked tersely.

Sirius took a breath, trying to calm himself so he could tell the whole story without breaking down, before beginning his tale.

“As you hopefully know, your parents fought for the light side of the war. A little after your birth Dumbledore heard from Trelawney that there was a prophesy dictating that a child born on the last day of the seventh month of those who thrice defied the dark lord could cause the dark lord’s downfall. Given that information, it could have referred to either you or Neville Longbottom. So, your parents went into hiding. We cast the Fidelius Charm, which meant your location would be kept secret. That means only the secret keeper would be able to tell anyone where you lived. Given that I would be the obvious choice, being your parents best friend, I suggested that we use Peter Pettigrew. He, that little rat, he was on the dark side and told Voldemort where you were. When I found out what happened. Hagrid just happened to be there, and I knew what he had done so I went after him. When I finally caught up to him, he accused me of being the secret keeper, blasted up the street, and cut off his finger and turned into his animagus form, which was a rat a scuttered away to who knows where. That traitor.” Sirius kept muttering about traitors and rats sounding as insane as he probably was after so many years in Azkaban.

Harry stayed silent and let the mad man continue his ramblings. Assuming the Fidelius Charm works how he theorizes it does, that means a person or group with a secret, say their location, would have to tell the secret keeper while someone cast the charm. Assuming his parents were the secret holders, and Pettigrew was the secret keeper…

“Who cast the charm?” Harry asked interrupting Sirius’ ramblings.

Sirius sighed. “I don’t know. Probably Dumbledore?”

Harry hummed. Black had just confirmed his fear. There were no more doubts in his mind that Dumbledore had his whole life set up like a chessboard. “Wouldn’t that mean Dumbledore knew who the secret keeper was?”

Sirius was silent for a second, obviously not catching on, then growled. “I’LL KILL THAT TWINKLY EYED BASTARD! HE SET THIS ALL UP. THAT CONVENING D-”

Bella cackled from the darkness. “Turns out you chose the wrong side after all, cousin!”

Sirius snorted in begrudging agreement. “Like you chose any better, cousin. Just look where you ended up.” Sirius retorted in disgust.

Cackling at her cousin’s disgust, Bella replied with a grin. “My Lord will save us in due time. It’s obvious yours just abandoned you here when you were no longer of any use to him.” She obviously wasn’t much saner than her cousin.

Having none of it, Sirius growled. “Shut up, Trix. At least I don’t worship a megalomaniac.”

“You watch your mouth mutt!” Bella, or Trix was it, growled with equal ferocity.

Their squabble continued for another hour before Rodo could get them to calm down giving Harry plenty of time to think.

Dumbledore must have played his entire life like a chess board from the moment he was born. If the prophecy came from Dumbledore’s ears, there was no doubt that it was fake or at least a self-fulfilling one. Dumbledore made sure as soon as his parents were killed and out of the way, he was raised in a home that shunned him. Making him into an attention-craving child that would do anything to make and keep a friend.

Why would they send Hagrid, a half-giant with no formal qualifications to introduce a muggle raised child to the wizarding world? Hagrid was probably sent by Dumbledore so the first thing that Harry would have been introduced to was Hagrid’s hero-worship of Dumbledore.

Why else would the Weasley’s, a pureblood family with access to floo, be meandering around King’s Cross shouting about platform 9 ¾’s without any regard for the Statute of Secrecy.

They knew he would crave the friendship of Ron. Even if that meant holding himself back in class to make sure he never out-did his insecure friend. They knew he would shun Draco for wanting to be a Slytherin since his first contact so gracefully informed him how all Slytherin’s were evil.

Dumbledore knew Voldemort was possessing things based on Quirrell in his first year. Hell, he probably wanted Harry to be caught up in the insanity when he invited the Sorcerer’s Stone into Hogwarts. So when Ginny ended up in an underground chamber, dead from magic depletion, he had to have known it was Voldemort.

Contrary to popular belief, Harry wasn’t stupid or headstrong. No. He was just a lonely abused kid who clung onto the first pieces of attention he was given. When he was told all of what a Gryffindor was meant to be like, he embodied it. That’s what his friends had wanted. A Golden Boy. A Saviour. A scapegoat.

The tense silence after the cousins’ argument lingered in the air, the sound of a storm nearing doing nothing to cut the atmosphere.

Finally breaking the tension, Bella spoke up. “Did you really kill the little Weaslette, itty bitty Potty?”

Harry scoffed. “No. Like they would ever believe that though.”

Bella hummed, “Then who did?”

“Your so-called Lord did it. A teen version of him that came out of some diary.”

Silence sat in the air, lingering for no more than a minute before a cackle of glee filled the air.

“Our Lord is back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Constructive criticism welcome. I'll probably edit this chapter before the next update so if you come back, make sure you double-check I didn't change anything. (I'll try to remember to tell you!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't change a thing! (I remembered)

“What do you mean, ‘Your Lord is back?’” Harry asked.

Bella’s grin lit up the darkness, mad eyes gleaming. “He protected himself against death, you know. You think the Dark Lord would go up against his prophesied death without protection? No. He will come and rescue us from this hell. Rescue his loyal pawns. Once he reunites with his main soul, all shall be right again, and we shall retake our place on top.”

“Reunites with his main soul?”

Bella laughs. “Our lord is a genius, baby lion. To ensure his eternal greatness he made Horcruxes.”

“As in” Sirius started but was quickly cut off.

“Yes, my dear cousin. My lord split his soul into multiple pieces. Now one piece has returned to the world of the living, his main soul will be able to reunite with it, allowing our Lord to return to his former greatness.”

Harry spoke up, “You said he made multiple?”

Bella cackled gleefully.

“What exactly happens when you make a Horcrux?”

Rodo spoke up this time, “In theory it splits your soul allowing you to conceal part of your soul in an object, allowing eternal life for as long as that object is intact.”

“Then in theory, if it splits your soul, and I assume you mean in half, and he’s done this more than once, wouldn’t he be left with an exponentially decreasing soul each time he made another one?”

Rodo sighs, “Quite possibly. That may explain the insanity towards the end. If it’s as you say and a Hogwarts age piece has been revived, then it should be his largest piece and will hopefully help fix or at least tame the insanity.”

Bella scoffed at his statement. “My Lord was not insane. He was brilliant. You’re just too dumb to see it.”

Rodo sighed at Bella’s antics.

“By the looks of it kid, you’ll be stuck in here with us for a while. At least until our Lord breaks us out. If his sanity has been restored, maybe you’ll have a chance of escaping with us.” Rab spoke.

Sirius scoffed from his corner. “Like he would ever except ‘your lord’s’ dirty help.”

“He should if it doesn’t want to die in this pit of despair,” Rodo muttered.

Rab sighed. “Either way, kid. Proper introductions are in order don’t you think. I’m Rabastan Lestrange, Rodo’s brother. Rodo, Bella and I were thrown in here as suspected Death Eaters and for the torturing of the Longbottoms.”

Harry glared. “Did you do it?”

Rab chuckled, “Kid. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s fake anymore. My nightmares combined with my memories long ago and the line between fantasy and reality is fine.”

Harry hummed. Was it possible Dumbledore played with everyone’s memories and emotion? Compelled them to do things they never would in other circumstances. Was life a game of chess for him? With him as the puppeteer and Fate as his opponent?

Rab continued with his introductions. “Rodo’s full name is Rodolphus Lestrange, his wife, Bella’s full name is Bellatrix Lestrange and I guess you’ve already been introduced to the mutt. A couple of cells down from you are Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood. I’m sure they’ve been eavesdropping on us this whole time. They’re pretty okay guys.”

Throughout his stay in Azkaban, Harry warmed up to the other inmates. They became what would have been his Uncles and Aunt, him being their favoured nephew. They spent their time teaching him magical theory, history, etiquette, politics, and more. All the things he should have learnt about growing up but never did.

Harry learnt that Sirius, even though he detested his childhood, was brought up as heir to the Black Lordship by his grandfather, Arcturus Black, and didn’t hate his grandfather. Sirius also turned out to be an animagus that took the form of a dog, giving logic to the nickname, mutt.

He learnt that Auntie Bella, as she insisted on being called, though crazy in some respects was very intelligent and knew a lot about magical theory. She would insist they had daily lessons where he practised the motions of spell casting anything from a cleaning charm to the darkest of dark arts.

He learnt that Uncle Rab excelled at languages, wards, and ruins. Harry had begun learning French, Spanish, German, Russian, Romanian, Chinese, Latin, Ancient Greek, and Ancient Egyptian from him as well as learning how to ward using ruins.

Harry discovered that Uncle Rodo was talented with mind arts and meditation. Rodo would instruct Harry every night before he slept and every morning when he woke to meditate and focus on strengthening his core by building on the colors he saw. Then during the day, he would teach Harry how to use his Mage Sight to weave protections around his mind allowing him to construct a unique Occlumency barrier.

It turned out that Augustus, or Uncle Gus as Harry had taken to calling him, much to his displeasure, had also worked as an Unspeakable. He was talented with time magic and would teach Harry the basics of how to freeze objects and make time turners. Antonin, or Uncle Toni to Harry, was one of Voldemort’s earliest followers. He would tell Harry tales of the ‘old days.’ Their plans to remake the wizarding world in their eyes.

According to Toni, Voldemort’s original vision of the magical world was one where all were educated in every branch of magic, the Old Ways and Rites were no longer illegal, and muggles were fully separated from the magical community. Any magical born child would be taken into wizarding custody as soon as they were discovered allowing less of a chance for persecution from muggles.

From what he had heard from the diary of Tom Riddle in his second year, Harry decided that it made sense. It seemed that Riddle had been brought up in a muggle orphanage. Not a very caring one at that. And seen the worst of the muggle community.

Given Harry’s own abuse, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Voldemort thought that full separation of the muggle and magical communities was the best direction to head. If he was correct, it was most likely the purebloods who spread the superiority crap throughout his campaign and he just went along with it since it garnered more followers.

Harry had lost count of how many days had gone by since his admission to Azkaban. He found that as terrible as the food and bedding was in Azkaban, it was still better than the Dursleys. At least in Azkaban, he got fed three times a day and had a bed. That’s more than he ever had when he was stuck there. And given everything, the inmates surrounding him were good company. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Some time into the lessons, Rodo mentioned his Dark Mark.

“It’s been getting darker again. Do you think that means he’ll come for us soon?” he asked Rab.

“I’d hope so.” Rab sighed. “I hope he’s sane again. I want to take our little protégé with us.”

Rodo laughed. “Even if he isn’t, we should still be able to convince him that the boy has worth.”

Harry growled from his corner. “Don’t call me boy.”

Rab sniggered.

“Sorry kid. Just unsure about how to proceed. I don’t really want to leave you behind at this point. It’s no place for a kid.” Rodo replied.

“I don’t mind it here, though.” Then muttering under his breath, “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

“Don’t say that,” Sirius growled. “You could have a better life if they took you out of here. Not like I agree with their views but at least you’d be away from this hell hole.”

Harry sighed. “That’s not what I mean Siri. I’ve never had choices in my life. Dumbledore obviously dictated every event since I was born. I don’t mind it here. The Dementors mainly leave me alone now, I get food and a bed. I even have my own toilet. What’s not to be happy about. If I left, what would I do? Spend the rest of my life in hiding? I’m much happier just staying here.”

“We could make you a new identity, cub. Move to Australia. Make a new life for ourselves.”

“And when we get caught again?”

Sirius remained quiet.

“Harry, kid, just think about coming with us when he gets here. Please. You’d be so much better off spending your life away from this hell. You too Sirius. I know you may not agree fully with us, but surely we’re a better option than the bastards who left you and your godson for dead.” Rodo said.

Weeks, or maybe months, had passed since that conversation. Harry’s magic had been improving daily. He was now proficient in French, Chinese, and Latin, was told he was a natural at Occlumency, learnt the proper pureblood greetings and basic manners for all occasions, and had up to 5th-year theory knowledge in all subjects, including the ones Hogwarts no longer taught.

Harry was meditating in the corner of his cell, his safe spot, when the colors of the prison walls started to change. He could feel the magic before he saw it. Opening his eyes, he saw that instead of the pink and purple hues the wall usually emitted, it turned an icy blue, almost as if it were frozen in time. Harry knew the time had come. He knew what was about to happen.

“The dark lord is here.”

Murmurs filled the empty halls of the prison. Slowly quieting as the sound of footstep came closer. Footsteps that came to a halt directly in front of Harry’s cell.

“Harry Potter. We meet again.”

Harry looked up to find an older looking Tom Riddle in front of him. He seemed to be in his early 20s. Dressed impeccably. Not a single hair out of place. The image of perfection.

“I apologize for my previous behaviour. I was not in the correct state of mind. Instead of trying to kill you, I would like to give you a proposition, in ways, if you would be so kind as to allow it.”

Harry looked up through his hair covering his face, during his time in prison it had grown out to about shoulder length. He could tell it wasn’t a request, no matter how it had been worded, but an order.

“What might your proposition be, sir?” Harry asked, unsure of what to call the man in front of him.

Riddle smirked. “You speak Parseltongue, correct?”

Harry nodded. Silence surrounded the cells as no one dared to breathe.

“I would like you to become my apprentice of sorts. I have regained the mind I had once lost and now realise prophecies are just tales only idiots believe in. My insanity allowed me to go after a mere child from a false prophet in haste to insure my life. However, should we both come to an agreement, I don’t see how the prophecy should affect either of us and why you can not, in the future, become my second in command, or dare I say, equal.”

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He had a feeling this day would come but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to decide. There was no arguing that Riddle had made a seductive offer and it was now clear to Harry how he had garnered so many followers in the first place.

“You couldn’t possibly mean that, My Lord,” Bellatrix shouted from her cell in shock.

“Ah, my dear Bella. I apologise for allowing things to go this far. For leaving you like this. I have no doubt that Mr Potter will do great things. Especially under my tutelage.”

“Nor do I, my Lord. But for him to be your equal?”

“Hush Bella. He has the capability to reach my level. Surely even you have realised that during your time with him. Don’t think I don’t know that you have been taking him under your wing.”

Sirius spoke up, finally getting over his shock, “Harry, I trust you to make the right decision. Even if that means going against the side your parents and I fought for. Just know, I will follow you no matter what. Just know that.”

Harry glanced at his godfather, finding peace that, should he chose the other side, Sirius didn’t feel that he was betraying the memory of his parents. That his parents probably would have wanted the best for him no matter what.

Riddle turned towards Sirius. “Sirius Black, shall I expect a follower in you as well?” he quipped. “I never thought I would see the day.”

Sirius scowled but kept his mouth shut so his godson would be safe.

Turning back towards Harry, Riddle looked straight into his eyes.

“So, Mr Potter. What will it be? Shall I leave you here with the filth, or will you come with me and train to be the wizard you were meant to be?”

Harry knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm doing well with writing this atm, but no promises on the constant update thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Azkaban Breakout

_Rita Skeeter_

After two short years of being imprisoned in Azkaban, Harry Potter, the boy-who-betrayed, has escaped, along with known Death Eaters Sirius Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and more. We, the people of Magical Britain, have been led to assume Azkaban is an impenetrable prison. So how have these convicts escaped? How is it that now, after the child killer has been imprisoned, these wanted criminals have escaped.

Are we to assume that Harry Potter has officially taken up the position as the latest Dark Lord and broken them out single-handedly while still in prison? A 14-year-old boy has broken Azkaban’s impervious walls ahead of any known wizard. Or perhaps a new depraved character has entered our home without our knowledge?

Dear Readers, this is what I vow to discover for you.

_Read more about Harry Potter’s crimes on pg. 3_

_Read more about Sirius Black on pg. 6_

_Read more about the Lestranges’ on pg. 7_

_Read more about previous Dark Lords on pg. 9_

_Find full list of Azkaban escapees on pg. 12_

_———_

Harry rolled his eyes at the latest article published by Rita Skeeter. Just what exactly was she looking to prove, if anything at all?

Sitting back in his chair, looking out the window adjacent to his desk in his new study, Harry internally snorted at the ridiculousness of his situation. For Merlin’s sake, he had just finished reading the last book on Voldemort’s book list for apprentices.

When Voldemort broke them out of prison, he took them to Malfoy Manor, much to Harry’s disappointment. Mini-Malfoy had to be around somewhere and Harry doubted he would get along with him any better than he did at school. But Harry was pleasantly relieved when he was given his own room and a personal study to hide out in, along with free reign of the Malfoy library.

No one had bothered him in the week that he was there unsupervised. The only other living beings he had felt enter his room were the house elves that brought him food. Even then they were never visible to the naked eye.

Voldemort’s only request of him was to study the materials given and be willing to learn anything in order to become the best.

Being told that, Harry rolled his eyes. The best at what? Becoming a Dark Lord. But Harry kept any snide remarks to himself in order to hopefully keep his head attached to his body.

Upon arrival at Malfoy Manor, Voldemort had already made a list of books he was to read by the end of the week, explaining that he would be busy making other arrangements until then and wouldn’t be in direct contact until he was finished.

So here Harry was. Studying books on almost every magical subject imagined. Some were even personally written books by the Dark Lord himself. Harry guessed he should be grateful. And, to be honest, Harry was. He always craved to learn as much as he could and impress the authority figures in his life. Not that he had been able to in school with ‘friends’ like Ron and Hermione. But suddenly his authority figure of choice had become Lord Voldemort and Harry found himself questioning his sanity. He was getting a better magical education than he ever would have received in Hogwarts and being treated better than he ever was at the Dursleys, but did he really want this? To become yet another weapon for yet another power-hungry megalomaniac?

Harry let his thoughts drift to his previous prison roommates. The rest of the Azkaban group, including his godfather, had been moved to a “secure location” where they would spend time healing, according to Voldemort. Harry was much less damaged from his stint in Azkaban than the other inmates who had spent more than 6x the amount of time he had exposed to the dementors.

In fact, Harry’s main health problems, according to the Healer, were the PTSD he received from the abandonment and betrayal of his previous “friends” and muscle loss from limited movement during his confinement. Then, of course, there were the problems the Dursleys had left behind. All of his injuries were slowly being reversed with extensive potions and salves, but the mental scares had left their mark on him.

When told that his mind was irreversibly damaged from childhood trauma, Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh hysterically. No kidding. That was exactly what Dumbledore had wanted. A weak, attention-starved child who would do anything not to disappoint people who showed even an ounce of care for him. And the sheer fact that it still rang true just proved what a good job the man had done. Unfortunately for him, Harry took betrayal very seriously and would never trust the old goat again.

A tap on the window by a large eagle owl interrupted Harry’s chain of thought. Harry walked over to let the ginormous bird in.

Once inside, the bird took a perch on Harry’s elaborate wooden desk and stuck out its leg. Seeing the silver Malfoy crest on the parchment attached, Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, the Malfoy’s would owl such large, regal looking animals.

Sliding a knife under the seal, Harry pulled out the letter and began to read. ~~~~

———

Harry Potter,

This is Draco Malfoy (if you couldn’t already tell by the Malfoy heir seal). Since I have heard that you are staying at Malfoy manor under orders of out most esteemed guest, I have graciously decided to re-offer my hand in friendship. By now I assume you agree that I was right about what people you should consider to be the wrong sort. Should you like to take up my offer, I would like to invite you to join me and a few of my friends in the parlour for a game of exploding snap at precisely 1500 tomorrow (I do hope you have learned how to play, even with hanging around all the riff-raff). Should you not wish to take my hand in friendship, I wish to have an amiable truce on our childhood rivalry. Please respond with your decision before tomorrow’s activities.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

———

Harry sighed. The ponce obviously hadn’t changed much since his childhood days, but it would be nice to have acquaintances his own age. The Dark Lord would surely approve of making connections with his minions’ heirs.

After quickly penning a letter to the Dark Lord, checking for his permission to meet the children and calling a house-elf to deliver the message, Harry sat down at his desk with renewed purpose. He had a meeting to plan and he knew just how he wanted it to go down.

Harry debated on sending a letter to Sirius about the new development but quickly decided that would be unwise. Voldemort had requested him to not contact the other Azkaban escapees until they were cleared by the healers. While Harry was reluctant to agree to those terms, he decided it would be best to be in Voldemort’s good books for the time being. He had people he wanted to get revenge on, and he wasn’t sure he could do it without the man’s help.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry started to think about who Malfoy’s friends would be. While he remembered Malfoy’s lackeys, Crabe and Goyle, Harry was sure his new warden wouldn’t approve of them, so Malfoy was unlikely to bring them along. The only other Slytherin Harry could even remember from his time at Hogwarts was the pug-nosed girl who always seemed to be latched onto the boy’s arm. It didn’t seem Malfoy appreciated her very much either so the was another unlikely candidate. The real question is should he plan for real Slytherins or Malfoy wannabes?

~~~~~~~

Soon after Harry’s message was sent to the Dark Lord, he received a reply confirming he could attend. Now the time had come to meet Malfoy and his ‘friends’ and Harry couldn’t be more pleased with himself. If the whole world was so intent on him being a Dark Lord, why not play the part.

Harry smirked as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing crisp black robes with emerald green accents. His dark hair was fashionably pulled back to keep his hair out of his face, proudly displaying the lightning bolt scar to the world. Showing Voldemort’s personal mark on him.

A knock on the door startled Harry. He cast a quick _tempus_ charm to check the time, ensuring he wasn’t late, then called out, “Come in.”

Looking towards the door Harry was surprised to see the Dark Lord himself striding into the room. Giving him a look over, Voldemort nodded in approval.

“Was there something you needed?” Harry asked with an air of caution.

Smirking the Dark Lord waved off his concern. “I just was assuring you were living up to my expectations as an apprentice of mine.”

Then wandlessly conjuring a box into his hand Voldemort moved his gaze to Harry. “It’s prudent for you to wear my symbol.” Shifting his eyes to the scar on Harry’s head. “Something more official then the lovely mark on your pretty little head.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Voldemort pulled out a locket and ring from the box.

“This is my personal crest. Wear it with pride and dignity. Make sure my Inner Circle’s spawns know their rightful place at your feet.” After pausing with a vindictive smile on his face, the Dark Lord continued to instruct Harry. “The ring is to be worn on your right index finger.”

Motioning for Harry to turn around as Voldemort pulled the locket’s chain around his neck and latched it at the back.

“Should you find the unfathomable need to write any more letters, that is the seal you will be expected to use. I’ll have a stamp delivered by the end of the day.”

Harry gulped and gave a shallow bow and said, “Thank you for this honour.”

The Dark Lord smiled, obviously pleased with the outcome. Grabbing Harry’s shoulder, Voldemort moved him so he would once again be facing the mirror.

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, Harry couldn’t help but grimly laugh in his mind at how his life had ended up. They surely did look like a pair. The impeccable image of Tom Riddle standing proud behind Harry with a gleam in his eye and a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“You will do great things. You will have your revenge. You will be by my side as I take over the wizarding world. Many things messed with my perception previously, things that you do not need to know yet, but having my mind returned to me has made me reconsider. I have eternity to rule the world. Rushing into events recklessly. Like a Gryffindor.” He scoffed at the thought. “No. The recklessness has ended, and I will embrace my Slytherin heritage. I will pull the strings from the darkness and you shall be by my side throughout my return.”

Harry nodded, slightly concerned at the man’s behaviour. Voldemort looked as if he had been shook out of a trace, blinked twice, and cast _tempus_. The spell revealed that it was 1456.

“You will leave now. No apprentice of mine will be late. I request that after the meeting you come find me in my study and show me your memory of the meeting. It will be amusing to see the spawns squirm. Along with the benefit of giving me more things to tease Lucius with.” Voldemort smiled to himself and walked out of the room.

Harry stared at the door for a minute before casting a quick invisibility spell on himself and headed to the parlour. Getting a house-elf to quietly pop him into the room, Harry sat himself in a chair facing the small group of Slytherins. Close enough to hear, but far enough that it wouldn’t be so farfetched he had been there the whole time.

Draco Malfoy paced back and forth in front of the chairs set out around a circular table.

“Draco. Would you stop? Your pacing’s getting annoying.” A slim dark-haired Italian looking boy spoke.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks turning to glare at the Italian. “I’m sorry Blaise, but should I remind you what my father said about this meeting? If this doesn’t go well… Well, least to say I do not plan to be on the Dark Lord’s blacklist.”

The blonde sitting to the right of Malfoy spoke next. “Stop overdramatizing. I’m sure he hasn’t changed much since Hogwarts. All Azkaban seems to do to people is make them afraid of their own ghost. Anyways, Potter was always rather pleasant to Slytherins. Or at least neutral. Unless it was you and your lackeys kicking up trouble.”

Malfoy huffed.

“He isn’t lying.” A tall blonde girl says.

“Oh shut it, Daphne. He was the one who dishonoured me by rejecting my hand in friendship.”

“You made it quite easy. You were a right ponce in first year Draco.” A pugged-nose girl who’s, if Harry remembered correctly, name was Pansy Parkinson.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy huffed.

“The past is the past. What matters now is the present. And who is not present since it’s 1501.”

Conjuring a book, Harry let his illusion fall, making out to be reading.

“I’m sorry. Are we waiting for more people? I was rather involved in my current book.” Harry spoke up.

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Malfoy sharply turned towards the voice and it took all he had in him to make sure his jaw didn’t drop.

Harry Potter sat regally strewn across a large armchair near the corner of the room. His long hair pulled back to show off his striking jawbones and emphasize his Avada Kedavra green eyes. He looked to be the model pureblood heir.

Quickly getting himself together Malfoy spoke.

“No! No, I just didn’t see you there. I must have been distracted by the company. Let me introduce everyone! Of course, as you know, I am Heir Draco Malfoy. You may call me Draco. These are my friends Heir Theodore Nott, Heir Blaise Zambini, Heiress Daphne Greengrass, and Miss Pansy Parkinson.”

“May magic be with you,” Harry replied the traditional greeting with a small bow.

“and with you.” They returned the sentiment.

“I am Lord Harry Potter, Lord Potter and Heir Black. You may address me as Harry if you wish. However, I would suggest otherwise around certain company.”

The group of Slytherins stared at Harry blankly before pulling themselves together and giving him the traditional greeting.

“So, shall we play?” Harry spoke up with a smirk and a dark look in his eyes.

The others shivered. It was obvious he wasn’t only talking about the game they gathered to play. This was a new game where they didn’t know the players or the rules. The only thing that could be said about Harry Potter was that any previous assumptions they had made of the boy were blown away. He was not what they were expecting in the slightest.


End file.
